Lovely
by She Has Green Eyes
Summary: A peek at what life was like before she went to Xavier's.
1. Betrayal

As I walk, I wonder when the screams will stop. I've heard them every night since he left me. The internal torture I was putting myself through was nearly unbearable. Everyone believed I was old enough and mature enough to deal with it. I remind myself that I am, but that doesn't stop the pain. My pace quickens in the approaching darkness, as if I am in some kind of hurry to get home, but I'm really trying to prolong it. The stars lit up the sky with pinpricks of silver amongst an azure backdrop, mostly illuminated by the glowing ivory orb that graces the sky tonight. I find myself once again enchanted with the moon, but then again, I've always been that way. I see myself as the symbolic lone wolf separated from her pack, longing for a place to stray yet so content with her solitude.  
  
The town I live in is small and non-commercial, more rural than urban, but it has its charm. I was making my way home, or to the house that contained my current guardian. My only true guardian houses himself in those stars, or so I believe. The houses are close together, unlike most rural areas, but there is less hustle here. The street I walk next to is softly glowing an orange color, highlighted by the few street lights beside it. The sidewalk is empty, but a car passes by on the street every few seconds or so. Walking gives me a lot of time to think, but less time to make my so-called curfew, which begins as soon as the sun sets in the sky. It already has, but I'm not too worried about it. I'm fifteen years old and perfectly capable of taking care of myself, despite what my mother believes. After a while, I turn onto a small street with a curve that heads downward the way I'm going, giving me the momentum to run. I jog a little, but don't exhaust myself too much. I make another turn onto my street and see my house, which is medium-sized and painted cherry red.  
  
As soon as I enter the house through the side door, my mother immediately finds time to interrogate me in the middle of cooking a meal for Melissa, my half sister, who sits on the marble counters of our kitchen. The tile was a dull shade of yellow, and the walls were off-white from so many years of being tainted by the smoke originating from the tips of my step-father's cigarettes. Mom is dressed in her scrubs, being an LPN. She never finds the time to change when she gets home from work, I think to myself. Her curled and dyed blonde hair was pinned back at the sides, her bangs curled to her forehead. Her skin is slightly rough and red from tanning, but a dusting of freckles is still visible on her cheeks. Her hazel eyes look at me with question. "Well? Where were you, Keirri?"  
  
The mention of my full name brings a small scowl to my lips, but I know she and Elmer, my step-dad, won't call me Kei. "I was at the library, where I was supposed to be." She looks at the black-faced clock with gold numbers and trimmings, and then at the watch on her wrist, as if she doesn't believe what time it is.  
  
"It's 9:00. It's starting to get dark. You know you're supposed to be home before it gets dark." Her eyes stay glued to me, and I withhold the desire to roll my eyes into the back of my head. I've heard this lecture over and over again, but I dare not mention any disrespect to my mother. I know the full potential of her iron fist, though it only seemed to be made of iron when it came to me and my so-called incompetence. Even though I'm responsible, she refuses to let me grow up. It's because of my brother, David, I think, but my lips stay sealed.  
  
"I know, Mom. I was just looking for a book and it took me a little longer than expected. I don't know why I have this idiotic curfew anyways." Her lips part, looking as if someone had just reached up and slapped her in the face, but I quickly add on before she can verbally assault me. "It's just that everyone else gets to stay out until at least eleven, and if I'm not home by 8:30, you're usually waiting by the door to hand me some backward punishment." I instinctively bite my lower lip out of anxiety, but to also keep myself from struggling to talk right now.  
  
"Keirri Suzanne Saucedo...Don't speak to me in that tone." Her voice was full of warning, and I nervously run a hand through my hair. "That curfew is so that you don't get pulled into a dark alley and raped somewhere. Unless you want the emotional trauma and the pregnancy, I suggest you stick to it. My punishments are not backward, you just like to do backward things. Need I remind you how much time you spent on the computer last summer? Why can't you be like other girls and go to parties to have a good time, like I did when I was in high school?"  
  
"And get pregnant when I'm sixteen years old? No thanks." I glare at her and she glares back. If looks were fire, I'd be burnt to a crisp by now. "Not to criticize, but I'm not obsessed with stupid things like egotistical men and air-headed girlfriends. I don't care about being popular, and I know who my real friends and family are." I dare her to speak about family in rebellion, but she keeps her lips sealed, so much that white specks appear at the corners of her mouth. "Oh, yeah," I continue, speaking in a Valley Girl voice, "let's go to a party and get drunk and high and have sex with anyone and everyone." My normal tone returns to me. "Mom, I told you, I hate drugs and alcohol, and you should too, especially after what Elmer's done."  
  
As if I spoke a comment similar to blasphemy if not worse, Mom slams down the spoon she was using to stir Melissa's food, her knuckles turning white from gripping it too hard. Melissa's blue eyes widen and look from me to Mom, as if the six-year-old could sense the danger brewing between us. The steel in my spine decides to make itself known as I straighten up to my full, unimpressive height of 5'9", a full inch taller than Mom. "Don't ever speak to me about Elmer like that...You know how much he's done to support this family."  
  
"Support, or fund, Mom? I heard all the time about your greedy, conniving ways, and I don't intend to cast them aside seeing as you prove your past is true to me every day." I continue, now gaining the ground I need to approach the sensitive subject. "I'm not a part of this family. My family consists of a druggie and a corpse." Her face blanched and my eyes were moist with tears, although I don't let them fall just yet.  
  
"You talk about Elmer being bad...Look at your brother, the druggie. He's done worse to this family than Elmer ever could." She gives a self- satisfied smirk, but I see right through it. She thinks she's gained ground, but she's pushing my envelope further.  
  
"At least he listens and talks to me about things a brother should. And he's concerned about my well-being. It's sad that he's disintegrating his brain with drugs every day and yet he remains more intelligent than you." I'm vehement by now. "You just remain a bystander while Elmer continues to pull the wool over your eyes, blinding you from the truth, and you'd just as soon cast your children aside for him as you would give an arm and a leg for him. He has you deceived, Mom, and I've been trying to get you to see that ever since you two got married."  
  
"Stop!" She suddenly cries, throwing her hands in her face in a last- ditch effort to get me off the subject. Knowing she can't take anymore, I turn my back and go to my room, knowing that she wants me there anyways. My temper doesn't stop flaring after being ignited by her, but I know that all I'll be able to do right now is push my emotions deep inside my stomach, causing me to visibly wince. She'll never see it, I say to myself, but I still have to try. That's all I've been doing for the past six years. 


	2. Disturbed Quiescence

I stand in the storm, barely aware of the rain's moisture seeping through my soaked clothes. The scent of it, however, is pure exhilaration to my nose and almost nostalgic to my mind. The wind sweeps down and cuts through the path of the droplets, forcing them to change their course and sabotage my mortal flesh like soft bullets. Suddenly aware of the tears cascading down my cheeks, mixing with the rain, my hand reaches up to brush them away, although it is impossible to keep the liquid away from my exposed skin. My hair is nothing but wet strands now, my vision blurred from not wearing my glasses. Though the air is a bit humid, the sheet of drizzling rain makes me shiver. I feel the familiar chill of goose bumps traveling up my arms and the back of my neck, but I don't have what I came for yet. I come to many of Nature's storms for solace. The pain is welled up inside me, waiting for an opportunity to release itself, but I am not ready yet. The storm's tempo increases considerably as the pounding of rain connecting with the pavement grows louder. Almost there.  
  
The grass around me is beginning to flood with the ever-lasting downpour and my clothes are beginning to feel heavy, but as the storm increases, so does the pressure within me. I should be contented for what I've received. But I deserve so much more, and so does she. As much as I hate thinking about it, Mom has the wild streak of a rebel within her, but she's too afraid to wake up and know who she really is without Elmer's assistance. My chest begins to tingle and ache with the heartbreak of the lies and deception, but I hold it back for now. She lets herself go away from him from time to time, but she always returns like a lost puppy. She has no real friends, she doesn't leave the house outside of work, and Anne is her only window to temporary freedom away from this life we are forced to live. Anne is an old friend of Mom's from college. She helped Mom gain independence from Elmer the first time as well as the second, but I am still waiting for a third time. I'll be forever waiting.  
  
The event plays itself out in my head as if it were a movie. I can pause, slow down any part I feel, rewind, or fast-forward. I remember that Anne and Mom had their share of fights, but nothing that their friendship couldn't overcome. Except when it comes to him. I wasn't there when it happened, but I heard the details. Mom asked Anne to go to a salon with her, but there was a change of plans and Elmer went in her place. Anne still showed up and there was a fight. From this point on, if anything is mentioned about Anne in our house, Elmer's temper lets itself run loose.  
  
I only see my best friend every once in a while. Her name is Sarah. She's Anne's daughter. Perfect, huh? Only, when Mom was restricted from seeing Anne, I was restricted from seeing Sarah too. It wasn't stated, but you can see it in his eyes. He has to control everything. We've seen Anne and Sarah two times in the past week, but before that, it was months since we'd seen each other. We have fun, just like in the old times. We blast loud music together, we joke around, we act like we're family. And we are. But Elmer still disapproves. Melissa loves Sarah, or, as she calls her, Sasa. She acts like more of a sister to her than I do. I try, but Elmer is her father. And it still hurts.  
  
Last night, when we left Anne and Sarah, we hugged and all told each other we loved everyone, but I could see the sadness in Sarah's eyes. She's afraid we won't ever see each other again. And she may be right. The entire ride home, I had to withhold my tears. Now is the time to release them. I scream with the sudden clap of thunder, letting my vocals unhinge and display my pain so openly in front of no one. I fall to my knees, my jeans soaking in a nearby puddle, but it doesn't matter. I close my eyes and stop screaming to catch my breath, but as soon as I do, another thought haunts me.  
  
If it weren't for Elmer, David would still be with us. As painful as his current status is to hear much less experience, he is my big brother. He was there for all the bad things that happened to me, he would always tease me, he would always disappoint me, but I always have held my faith in him. My sister-in-law, Marisa, is pregnant. I will never lay eyes on the child. My heart aches for someone to talk to. Whether it's Sarah or David, they are all gone from me, and I am left with only the storms to console me. I scream again, my throat already raw, but I find that I can't stop. I need help. I know where to find it.  
  
My hand immediately grasps the silver cross on a beaded chain around my neck as I halt screaming, but I begin again soon after. Why can't I feel Dad here with me? Have I lost all the strength he has given to me? I try to gather the shards of myself and form just a portion of what I was before, but all I receive is hopelessness. Hope. An emotion I no longer experience, especially after my father's death. I'm so tired, but I continue to scream in pain, as does my body. The tears form tiny rivers down my face now, dripping off my chin, but I don't care. I have no one. All because of one person. Has the Devil possessed my stepfather just to have fun with me? Probably.  
  
But, soon after thinking of that statement, I feel him. The wind blows gently now as my throat is too dry to scream any more, caressing my face as if there were a hand placed there. The rain has slowed to a drizzle, overshadowed by my panting. I grow calm as the wind ripples through my hair, gripping my cross, feeling Dad right here with me, telling me to keep having faith in the one person who it is important to have faith in--myself. Now my tears are the only thing soaking my face, and I look up to see the sun peeking out through the clouds. He's here. And he's telling me to hold on. And I will. Forever. For him. 


	3. Dear Diary

Today, I have to clean my room. Not a simple task, no doubt, because it looks like there's been an animal living here. There has, my dog, but that's another story. Right now, I have to concentrate on cleaning, because Mom will give me Hell if I don't. I start by clearing off my desk, and I'm done in about five minutes. Once I get to the bottom of the mess, however, there's a notebook I don't recognize. This is common, as I have several notebooks floating about. I flip it open, no cover, but my eyes trail down the first page. I read aloud, as I am alone, and my sister, Melissa, is out in the living room.

"Saturday, December 7th, 2002. I think I had a mental breakdown today. I feel like screaming at my asshole stepfather/uncle and breaking something. It was he who took away my mom. It was he who drove away my brother. Now he's keeping Dad from seeing me. I can't see Dad or even talk to him. I've been grounded for two weeks now and the punishment has begun to get to me. He took my tv downstairs and into David's (my brother) old room in the cold basement. The basement used to be a place of love. It turned into a place of grief, sorrow, sometimes even fear when David left. Fear that I would never experience the joy of living with David and Dad. Elmer took away my stereo too. I cannot use the phone. They even disconnect it when they leave me alone. The punishment that bites me in the ass the most is no music. Without music, I'm miserable. I can't express my feelings, and I can't scream out the words to a song."

My eyes begin to tear up thinking about Dad. This had been written before he died, obviously, and just that thought is enough to move me to tears. I hold them back, however, and flip the page, clearing my throat before I begin again.

"Friday, December 13th, 2002. Last night's dream was one of the worst I've had in a while. Dad had been at the door. Melissa answered it and immediately let him in, hugging him and proclaiming how much she missed him. Elmer leapt forward with a black and blue butterfly knife, his eyes red and bloodshot as if he had been drinking again. Meaning to stab Dad, he stabbed Melissa in the left eye, leaving her completely blind from both the injury and shock. I had jumped on Elmer in a rage. The knife scratched my cheek, deep enough to leave a scar. Then, time forwarded. Melissa was about twenty years old. David came into the room we were in, speaking and greeting her gently. The next words broke my heart. "Who are you?" Melissa questioned. I woke up crying. David and Melissa had been apart so long that she didn't remember him. Now I understand true loneliness. It isn't being unable to see your friend for a day or crying over your boyfriend cheating on you. Loneliness is having absolutely no one else to talk to, no one to confide in. It is being locked in a cold room with no communication. I would have already gone insane by now if Dad hadn't promised I would live with him by February. The only thing I have to do to get there is experience and temporarily live with my loneliness."

My tears fall freely. I feel a pain start in my chest, the familiar feel of a panic attack, but I soon leave my room to inhabit the bathroom and deal with the sick feeling I'm getting. I shut and lock the door, grabbing some tissues to wipe my tears away for now. I sob as I continue, flipping the page.

"Wednesday, January 1st, 2003. I feel nervous. What if something goes wrong in court and I can't live with Dad and David? What if Dad can't afford a lawyer? What if I make them go broke? What if they can't afford food? I should've kept my mouth shut. If I hadn't told Mom I wanted to live with them in the first place, I wouldn't be in this mess. Why do I have to walk into their lives? They're already having enough money problems as it is. Why do I have to be so selfish?"

My hands visibly shake as I breathe in, preparing myself. This was it. I can feel it coming. The page turns.

"Monday, January 6th, 2003. I'm crying my eyes out. I didn't wait until I got in my room. I just cried right there, everyone watching. I just received a phone call from Mom. Dad's unconscious in critical care in the hospital. He had a seizure. For once in a blue moon, I'm allowed to see Dad, but the circumstances are enough to make my heart bleed. I don't care about my Algebra homework. I only care about Dad making it out of there alive. Why does this have to happen to my dad? Why couldn't it have been me? I want to be strong, but I can't. Him being hospitalized devastated me. (Inside the hospital) **Daddy is dead**."

My sobbing and whining grows louder as I retch into the toilet, flushing it down and cleaning myself up. The memories burn in my eyes...They're burning me up inside. I'm being haunted by a whisper. A chill comes over me as I continue.

"I wish it was all a dream. I wish it would all end and I would wake up. Why can't I wake up? Why can't God do me this one favor? Where's David going to live? I wish I could crawl into a hole and die. At least I would be with him then. My stomach rumbled, but I'm not hungry. There went my freedom. Out the window. There went my beauty. There went my pride. There went my spirit. There went my soul. There went...**Dad**."


End file.
